Patton (1970)—And Yet Also Joy

[I am writing about 100 films of the 20th century. Learn more about this project.]

“There’s one big difference between you and me, George. I do this job because I’ve been trained to do it. You do it because you love it.” —Karl Malden as General Omar Bradley to George C. Scott as General George Patton

Joy and happiness are two different things. I’ve written about this. The film Patton portrays the difference vividly in one particular passage of the movie. Relieved from active command of combat troops in the midst of World War II, sidelined from the events leading up to the D-Day invasion, General Patton (George C. Scott) is left to drift in luxury through the mansion in Sicily his staff is using as his headquarters. He looks awkward in a robe. Denied the chance to pursue or follow in his calling, he is without joy. So his men try to give him happiness instead. They try to console him, offering, “I thought you might like a sip of wine,” “I thought you might like some milk or a hot bath.” But luxury is a consolation for others. What he needs is fulfillment of purpose. He regains joy in that moment—we see the moment later in the movie—when he is leading soldiers who are cold and without a hot meal as they move quickly out of one battle toward another where they have been sent. The 19th century general William Tecumseh Sherman famously said, “War is hell” (or “War is all hell”—accounts vary). The General Patton of this movie would not have disagreed. Yet for him war is also the context his purpose needs, the one context in which he might fully and truly find joy. In the midst of the march, we see him fall in among the glumly advancing men he is leading, talking to them freely in a way he was unable to talk to his staff members earlier who were trying to comfort him.

The pain of unfulfilled purpose is a part of life in this world. The book Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell, is partly about this. The “outliers” his title refers to are the ones who, largely by accident, have actually found their way into doing what they were seemingly born to do. They are outliers because there are far more people in our world who do not find their way into a full expression of their gifts. For example, just consider the ordinary misfortune of gifted people born into poverty whom our society has no way to identify or to channel into their gifts’ fulfillment. Lives such as theirs are lived against a backdrop of unfulfilled purpose, which is an altogether commonplace pain.

Jesus said his joy will be in us and our joy will be complete (John 15:11). I think it must be that the provision for the fulfillment of our purpose is part of what is bound up in this promise. Each of us was made unique and each of us was made for a purpose, if not various purposes. This broken and incomplete world keeps us from finding the fulfillment of those purposes, but now God has begun remaking the world. Those who are called by him, called into faith, have purposes within his plan for this remaking. We frequently do not recognize these purposes, because none of us can claim to know God’s plan well enough to see our own small place within it. Yet by means of the Spirit that fills them and the circumstances created around them, God is now moving people into places of purpose, places of joy.

Is it okay that I just used a war general as the illustration by which to convey this point about Jesus’ promise of joy? It is okay. Generals are part of creation, even an intended part. At present, we know there is an insurrection even in heaven—a war. In some fashion, there must be generals in this conflict as well. God is bringing not just a new earth but a new heaven along with it (Revelation 21:1), and presumably strife will be brought to an end in both. But still, everything we see here on earth is a veiled hint at the form God intends, the true form waiting beyond. If there are generals here and arguably generals also in heaven, there must be something comparable in the world to come, even after the wars on earth and the war in heaven are over. Somehow, there will be figures who organize and lead others through endeavors of great cost and striving, even if the outcome of those endeavors is no longer to be the worldly hell that General Sherman knew.

I don’t know if the moviemakers responsible for Patton were mocking General Patton in the opening scene of the film, that famous scene in which he is standing alone before a big American flag. This movie would have been filmed during the Vietnam War; perhaps there was an undercurrent flowing through this film’s creation, a mood of questioning or recoiling from admiration for generalship. In that famous opening scene, a huge flag surrounds a man who is small by comparison. But then in the movie’s final scene, we see something different. We see Patton walking out of the story by walking across a battlefield now empty because the war is over. The purpose he was given to pursue by his Creator is ultimately bigger than the tiny war in which this calling was given expression. 

Tiny? You might object; it was a world war, the biggest in history. Of course that’s true. However, it was a world war limited to just this world, which is finite and finished. We will have work to do and victories to win within the world that is to come.